From Darco to Paris
by FrontalAssaultDSFTCI
Summary: Draco's time in London was over once he moved to Paris. Or, at least, he hoped it was. When the Malfoy Manor is attacked repeatedly, Narcissa gets Draco to come home for a while. Draco's plans are changed, though, when he discovers the head Auror on his case. Drarry hp/dm uhh idk other pairings. Rating WILL change.


**A/N: Bleh what can I say I was bored. I need to finish my Avengers/HP crossover but I'll do that later. This came to me and I decided why not. The rating will most likely change when Draco and Harry get together or whatever. Enjoy! Oh and If you wonder why Harry is left stuttering after Narcissa it's because Cissy is a mother and she could bring a city to its knees with her mothering voice. It's a fact. **

_Disclaimer- I don't own Harry Potter, talk to JK Rowling._

* * *

_Chapter 1- Life in Paris_

The streets of Paris weren't particularly filled that day, mid September not being a tourist's time of interest. The French moseyed around, some cruising down the streets in their fancy vespas, and others mumbling for a bit of spare change. The cool September air was pleasant enough to wear short sleeves in, but Draco had never been one for short sleeves. That is, until his second month in the city. Draco Malfoy, ex-death eater, swiftly walked down the streets of Muggle Paris in a loose white satin shirt with short sleeves and black skinny jeans. Not his most fashionable choice, but he didn't exactly have the extensive wealth as he used to. Draco was thankful that the Dark Mark only gained curious glances from passing Muggles, rather than the cruel glares of the Wizards. Having moved out after the war, Draco decided to make a living on his own without his family name hanging over him. In his hand he held a fabric bag filled with various arts supplies, paints, brushes, pencils. Most of his art supplies were at his loft and what he carried were recently purchased items.

It was a sight to see,_ the_ Draco Malfoy strutting down the streets in Muggle clothing making Muggle art in his Muggle loft. Of course, that would only be for those who knew him as a child. These days, Draco enjoyed the quiet and kind French people. He frequented the magical part of Paris plenty of times but the French had not escaped the war. There were far fewer glares here than in Magical London, though, and for that he was grateful.

He made a quick stop at his favorite café for a latte and thanked the cute barista who winked in return. Draco had intended the trip to be one of self-discovery and he had most certainly discovered a lot about himself. First off, he was gay. Well, bi would be more appropriate, but he preferred men. When he had first had thoughts about boys he had dismissed them, not wanting to tarnish his reputation as Malfoy heir and not be able to produce an heir himself. He had thought it disgusting and unnatural to lust after males and females the same way and only recently realized that if he wanted to exist and be happy, he would have to discard all the foolish values his family had practically forced on him. He would not say he was at no fault, for he knew he could have not listened, he could have accepted Dumbledor's offer when he had the chance. That wasn't an option anymore, for the old coot is dead and had taken Draco's only hope at a normal wizard life with him.

Draco dismissed the morose thoughts when he arrived at his complex, taking an elevator to the top floor and keying in his code to unlock the door. The technology the Muggles came up with was absolutely astounding and Draco had been indulging himself with the contraptions for a while now. He had bought a Muggle cellular phone when they had first gained popularity and now owned a magical version. He also owned a television which he didn't use as often as he paid for. He had declared himself free of the family and it's fortunes, but sometimes he got far too low on cash and would borrow a little bit of money. He always ended up spending it on the fancy electronics and rent. He purchased the bare minimum for food, often having to buy less than delicacies. He still was a Malfoy, and he would not live in complete poverty.

His home was big, and bright. The walls were covered in windows allowing him to see almost all of Paris. The Eiffel tower stood strong and tall in the distance and was breathtaking at night. He couldn't believe it when he had found the loft and had thrown his down payment at the land lord almost immediately. The rent was higher than he would like, but being a Malfoy had its perks, and that would be an endless bank account. He tried to use his family money as little as possible and found himself dipping into the french vault a lot less than when he first moved to the city. The loft was only two rooms, the large living room with a connecting kitchen and the bedroom. The bedroom was blocked off by a sliding door that Draco had been having problems with lately.

Draco dropped his keys on the white kitchen counter and placed his art supplies next to his white lilies that he had been painting. The large oil painting stood up against his far wall, as he had decided a canvas was unnecessary. A large cream tarp was thrown fairly haphazardly under his painting, covering the entire corner area. There was an assortments of paint supplies strewn about and plenty of paint staining the fabric. A small, yet comfortable couch sat a few feet away from his modestly sized television on the other side of the room. Draco plopped down in front of his lily painting and got to work.

A few hours passed and Draco was scrubbing oil paint from his fingers and got to work making a salad. It was hardly any work, as all he had to do was pull a handful of the greens and drop them into a little red bowl. He didn't douse the salad with dressing, per say, but it wasn't exactly dry. He at in silence, examining his painting with his inherited critical eyes. He noted all of its little flaws and mentally prepared how he was to fix cleaning his bowl, he got back to work on his painting. It had to be perfect, all of his paintings were perfect. That was one of the reasons he was living so luxuriously. He got fabulous business with the woman who owned the gallery two blocks down. It was a hot spot for most of Paris' rich folk and for that he considered himself lucky.

As the sun fell behind the horizon and the lights began twinkling like stars in the city, Draco decided his painting was finished. He put up all of his supplies, cleaned his utensils and made absolutely sure his paints were tightly lidded, he couldn't have any of them drying up in the night. Draco pulled open his sliding door with difficulty and decided tomorrow he'd find a spell to oil the slider or something. He wasn't entirely sure how the contraption worked yet, but he figured there was only gain in finding out. He pulled off his shirt and pants, using a quick cleaning spell on them, and threw them back in his closet. He didn't know why, but he felt as though tomorrow was going to be a big day, so Draco pulled his hair clip and let his unruly blond locks flow past his neck. He enjoyed his long hair, as it was soft and fun to run his fingers through. He could see why girls kept their hair so long.

Draco laid his head on his pillow and pulled the thin sheet he used in the summer heat around his shoulders and let himself sleep soundly through the night.

* * *

Narcissa was a reasonable woman. She was strong, intelligent, and caring, all of the qualities many considered respectable in a person. This was why Narcissa couldn't fathom the thought that anyone figured it to be a good idea to attempt to break into Malfoy Manor, one of the most protected and noble households in all of Wizarding Britain. They may have lost reputation when Lucius was sentenced to life in Azkaban, but they definitely didn't lose their uncanny ability to protect their living. They were Slytherins after all. It had happened at least three times in the past week and Narcissa was through putting up with it. She couldn't keep watch all the time, she did have a life, but how else was she to catch the culprit? It was for this exact reason that Narcissa enlisted the help of one of the most decorated and respected Aurors Britain had to offer. Well, she didn't exactly enlist his help but she wasn't going to refuse his offer. If not for his presence at the office when Narcissa filed her report, she probably wouldn't have gotten any Aurors on the case. She knew he was just trying to repay her for not outing him to the Dark Lord in the forbidden forest, but she would take what she could get.

Harry Potter could be found sitting at the expensive counter in an expensive chair sipping expensive tea from an expensive cup in the overly expensive Malfoy Manner, Narcissa at his side. It had to be the most interesting scene he found himself in in a while. Frankly, repeated robberies weren't something Harry would usually take responsibility of, but Harry figured the Malfoy's could use all the help they could get. Harry had testified at the mother and son's trials but nothing could be done for Lucius, not that he thought anything _should_ be done for the grimy, Death Eater. He knew, the moment she strut into the Auror department, that it was some sort of hate crime and that none of the other Aurors would be bothered handling something like that. So, like the good little Gryffindor he was, Harry took her case.

"So, Harry, how is it? Working as an Auror?" She was pleasant, but Harry wasn't really one for small talk. He indulged her, but they only chatted for a moment before he decided to embrace the true issue here.

"Look, Narcissa, I think you should ask Draco to come stay with you until we get this sorted out." Harry had remembered hearing gossip that the ex-Death Eater was running around France, but he was never one to put much stock in gossip.

"Harry, I want you to understand something." Harry knew, right then, that she was about to lecture him. She placed her teacup down and looked at him with narrowed eyes. "I know you might not understand this, but the fact that I am a woman does not mean I need some sort of male guardian here. I am perfectly fine taking care of myself, and you should do well to remember that. I survived this war and if you think, for one moment, it was because of some man, then you are sorely mistaken. If it wasn't for the man in my life, I would have never even been involved in the war in the first place."

Harry's cheeks reddened and he hastily began to explain. "O-oh, that's not what I meant, well it's not - uh. Look, Mrs. Malfoy, I can understand why you took what I said that way, but that's not what I meant by it, honestly. I just figured that since you two really only have each other..." Harry trailed off, realizing what he said. He immediately regretted it when he saw the pained expression on Narcissa's face.

They both were silent for a moment until Narcissa caved and agreed to firecall Draco in the morning, she hadn't seen him in four years, since he left London and this was a wonderful opportunity to drag him back home.

* * *

**A/N: I don't even know it's just some random story I thought up. Hoped you like it! R/R**


End file.
